Poem: The Ballade of the Envious Bard by Clarice Crosbie

This is the pang I feel
   When I hear of a repartee,
Or some other bard's lines reveal
   Pure wit to the nth degree
In epigram, drollery,
   Swift sally or answer pat:
"It should have belonged to me!
   Why didn't I think of that?"

Ev'ry trump in the deal
   Is the hand I like to see;
I own (for I can't conceal)
   That crude avidity --
Greed, with a capital G --
   Lays my finer instincts flat,
And screams in raucous key:
   "Why didn't I think of that?"

Though I'd never descend to steal,
   I would gather the roving bee
Who gathers her golden meal
   Wherever she finds it free;
Shakspearean ways has she,
   Transmuting the borrowed sprat
To a mermaid....That's the plea!
   Why didn't I think of that?

              ENVOY

Apollo, there wails to thee
   A literary gnat,
At the eagle's jeu d'esprit,
   "Why didn't I think of that?"

First published in The Bulletin, 31 July 1924